


Day 3: Medical

by Aichi



Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Drugs, Dubious Consent, Fear Play, Gender-neutral Reader, Needles, Other, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aichi/pseuds/Aichi
Summary: This is the Chaos Breaker prompt. (It's consensual.)
Relationships: Chaos Breaker Dragon/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951588
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	Day 3: Medical

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO THIS IS WRITTEN TO BE CONSENSUAL AND WITH THE ASSUMPTION THAT THE READER IS INTO IT BUT THE DUBCON TAG IS BECAUSE.. I Don't Think Mr Breaker Actually Cares Either Way, so please take care when reading if this is a problem for you.
> 
> This one is also going to be part of a sequence, because my word count goal was apparently way too small, so once again this is basically just an intro, oops. We'll get into some more intense stuff tomorrow. Apparently my list has a lot of prompts with crossover potential. (If I'd realized this I might have put them all as a chaptered work but TOO LATE WE'RE COMMITTED NOW)
> 
> I like how I started off cute with days one and two and then accelerated full speed into hell. Typical. Sorry.
> 
> Please use your suspension of disbelief re: "safe sane consensual kink" here. This is not safe or sane.

Offering yourself up as a plaything for a murderous, maniacal space dragon had felt a lot easier when you were doing it alone, playing make-believe in the privacy of your bedroom, with no faith that anyone would ever actually answer.

The sharp chill of the spacecraft deck under your bare feet and the enormous pair of glowing purple eyes staring down at your naked, shivering body paint a _very_ different picture.

“Well~” says Chaos Breaker Dragon, a claw tapping idly against the handle of his scythe. “A _willing_ human subject. How… _unusual_.” He leans down, reaches towards you with a claw, and despite every instinct screaming at you to run, you can’t bring yourself to move as its tip traces the curve of your jaw. “You have so much _hope_. I can _taste_ it. We’ll see what it takes to tear that out of you, shall we~?”

Your nod is almost imperceptible, and surely doesn’t matter anyway. It’s far too late for you to say no.

You don’t move from the exam table in his laboratory for over a week.

You know it’s been a week because your captor tells you gleefully every time a day passes, whenever he comes in to check your restraints and IVs and to refill the tank that pumps its contents at regular intervals down the tube inserted into your throat. It bypasses your mouth and tongue, so you can’t taste it, but you guess it’s some sort of synthetic nutrient paste. _That_ he doesn’t deign to tell you about. The only things you get to taste for that week are rubber and plastic, and most of the stimulation you get comes in the form of the occasional minor jolts from the electrodes stuck at intervals all over your bare flesh.

A cold, persistent fear burns under your skin, but it’s buried in a shallow grave filled by whatever drugs he’s constantly pumping into you. The entire time, you lie somewhere between awake and asleep, barely able to focus enough to take in your surroundings. Apparently, at least for now, he wants to keep you subdued and docile.

Sometimes, he takes samples of blood, saliva, and other fluids, but you barely feel the needles. You hardly even feel it when, on day eight, he inserts something into your ass, and you think, dully, that you might not have noticed at all if he didn’t have to undo your leg restraints for it, and if it didn’t take him so long to take whatever reading he wanted.

“Good news!” Chaos Breaker says, on day nine. “Everything’s finally ready for me to get to work on you!” He rubs his claws together, his massive teeth pulled into what feels like a permanent grin as he leers down at you. “Aren’t you excited?”

He waits for a second, cocking his head as if expecting an answer. You offer a low gurgle around the tube lodged in your throat and, seemingly satisfied, he gets to work directing the machines around you to remove your IVs.

A short while later, you’re on your feet, albeit extremely unsteadily. With a snap of his claws, a dark ring pulsating with red light materializes around your wrists, trapping them in front of you, and another appears around your neck. A string of light extends from the latter, and the dragon holds it in his claws like a — your heart clenches with indescribable emotion — like a _leash_.

He gives it a swift tug, and you stumble forward, numb legs almost instantly giving way under you. You’re saved only by the ring around your neck, which rigidly holds its position, tightening strictly around your throat instead of falling along with you, and a cold panic shoots through you as you struggle to get your feet under you again. Chaos Breaker eyes you with obvious amusement as you splutter and cough, fighting to get your breath back.

When he pulls on your leash again, you’re ready — as ready as you _can_ be, anyway — and you hobble after him as he exits through the automatic doors of the laboratory.

Some small part of you wants to be embarrassed by your nakedness as he leads you through the featureless metallic corridors of the ship, passing several crew members on the way, but the combination of the drugs in your system and the apparent total disinterest of the other Star-vaders leaves you feeling very little at all. None of them offer more than a cursory glance as you pass, and you get the distinct feeling that your situation isn’t an uncommon sight at all for them.

You’re led into a room labeled ‘Medical Bay’ in glowing red letters, a set of polished chrome doors sliding silently closed behind you as you enter. It’s bigger than the lab where you were kept before, the walls lined with huge, unidentifiable machines covered in wires and blinking lights. Several transparent vertical tubes filled with red liquid stand on one side of the room, each more than large enough to hold a human — which one of them does, a naked man floating motionlessly in the fluid, an oxygen mask strapped over his face. Along the opposite wall is a line of beds, or rather, exam tables, as metallic and unfriendly as the one you’ve called home for the last week. One is practically caked with blood, and a Star-vader wearing what might, in some galaxy, pass as a nurse’s uniform is in the process of scrubbing it clean.

Chaos Breaker leads you to one of the clean tables, fitted with the same metal restraints as your previous one. The rings around your neck and wrists dissipate into particles, as does your leash, and he gestures for you to lie down, as if he were a waiter inviting you to your seat at a fancy restaurant.

A cocktail of confused emotions surges inside your skull, but it’s like you’re feeling them from far away, through layers of cotton wool. You lie down, as directed, and as you rest your limbs in the appropriate places, the metal rings clamp shut over them. Ankles, thighs, wrists, biceps, neck. A needle pricks your arm, and you yelp, the first real noise you’ve made in a week.

“Welcome,” the dragon says, “to your new home~”

Whatever liquid he just injected into you feels thick in your veins, and it _hurts_. You whimper, and immediately cough, your throat unused to making noise. Chaos Breaker hums, and hooks a claw into your mouth to hold it open as he pours something into it. It actually tastes pleasant, almost like honey, and you swallow it as best you can. Immediately, the irritation in your throat is washed away, and a warmth settles in your stomach, almost comfortable despite your situation.

 _Almost_ , because at the same time, whatever he injected is starting to strip away the layers of padding around your emotions. Fear needles insistently through your chest, and you stare weak and wide-eyed up at your captor as the reality of where you are _finally_ breaks into your mind.

“Starting to wake up?” he purrs. “So, is this place everything you’d dreamed? How’s that hope of yours holding up?” As he speaks, he lays out a set of instruments on a wheeled tray table next to you. Your throat tightens at the sight of multiple scalpels, a set of pliers, and several things you can’t even begin to identify the use of. Selecting one of the larger scalpels carefully between his claws, he turns back to you, teeth curving into his usual characteristic smirk. “ _Please_ tell me you’re not giving up before we even start. Well, most of my subjects are gibbering sobbing messes by now, begging for mercy, but I had a… _special_ feeling about you. You’re not going to let me down, right?”

It takes all your willpower for you to shake your head, to ignore the bitter, stabbing protests of your instincts and take hold of what you really want. You try to speak with confidence, but it comes out as a wavering whisper.

“Make me yours,” you say. “Please.”

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, I think reader inserts are cool, and not something to be "embarrassed" about, and also a thing everyone should try if they want.
> 
> Speaking of which, I actually have a cameo appearance in this fic (outside of the reader insert). Wink wink.
> 
> Twitter: @cosmowreath


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